The Finn Experiment-Maximum Ride: Adventure Time Style
by xXAdventureTimedaBossXx
Summary: (This is my story, the story of my family, but it could just as easily be your story too. We're all in this together; trust me on that. I've never done anything like this, so I'm just going to jump in, and you try to keep up.) FioLee. Fionna as Max, Marshall as Fang, PG as Iggy, Cake as Nudge, Jake as Gazzy, and Finn as Angel. Rated T.
1. Prolouge

**This is just a start. Untill I get some reviews...**

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Mathematical for you. The fact that you're reading this means you've taken one giant step closer to surviving till your next birthday. Yes, you, sitting there reading line per line. Do not stop reading this. I'm dead serious-your life could depend on it.

This is my story, the story of my family, but it could just as easily be your story too. We're all in this together; trust me on that.

I've never done anything like this, so I'm just going to jump in, and you try to keep up.

Okay. I'm Fionna. I'm fourteen. I live with my family, who are five cool peeps not related to me by blood, but still totally my family.

We're, well, we're kind of awesome. Not to sound too full of myself, but we're like nothing you've ever seen before.

Basically, we're pretty cool, nice, smart-but not "average" in any way. The six of us-me, Marshall, Bubba, Finn, Jake, and Cake-were made on purpose, by the sickest, most horrible "person" you could possibly imagine. He created us as an experiment. An experiment where we ended up only 98 percent human. That other 2 percent has had a big impact, let me tell you.

We grew up in an underground prison, in cells, like lab rats. It's pretty amazing we can think or speak at all. But we can-and so much more.

There was one other underground experiment that made it past infancy. Part human, but undead-all predator: We call them Spirits. They're tough, smart, and hard to control. They look human, but when they want to, they can eat you inside out, complete with rotting flesh, fangs, and deadly toxins. The Lich (the person who created us...sadly) uses them as guards, popo's, and executioners.

To them, we're six moving targets, prey, smart enough to be a fun challenge. Basically, they want to rip our throats out. And make sure Ooo never finds out about us.

But I'm not lying down just yet. I'm telling you, right?

This story could be about you-or your children. If not today, then soon. So please, please take this seriously. I'm risking everything that matters by telling you-but you need to know.

Keep reading. Don't let anyone stop you.

-Fionna. And my family: Marshall, Bubba, Finn, Jake, and Cake.

Welcome to our not so algerbraic nightmare.


	2. Kidnapped

**A/N: To answer that Guest's question, yes, they are going to be like the books, but I'm going tpo Adventure Time it up, you know? And I was considering adding 2% cat and dog to Jake and Cakes' DNA, but I just wanted them to be just like Gazzy and Nudge, so i'm not. Yes, they are all humans. But, they'll still have there powers like they have an Adventure Time.**

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_The funny thing about facing imminent death is that it really snaps everything else into perspective. Take right now, for instance. Run! Come on, run! You know you can do it. I gulped deep lungfuls of air._

_My brain was on hyper-drive; I was racing for my life. My one goal was to escape. Nothing else mattered. My arms being scratched to ribbons by a briar I'd run through? No biggie. My bare feet hitting every sharp rock, rough root, pointed stick? Not a problem. My lungs aching for air? I could deal._

_As long as I could put as much distance as possible between me and the Spirits. Yeah, Spirits. Mutants: half-men, always undead, usually smelly, always bloodthirsty._

_Right now they were after me. See? That snaps everything into perspective. Run. You're faster than they are. You can outrun anyone. Well, not as fast as Marshall. But I'll say I'mma close second._

_I'd never been this far from the Prison before. I was totally lost. Still, my arms pumped by my sides, my feet crashed through the underbrush, my eyes scanned ahead anxiously through the half-light. I could outrun them. I could find a clearing with enough space for me to-_

_Oh, no. Oh, no. The unearthly baying of undead on the scent wailed through the trees, and I felt sick. I could outrun men-all of us could, even Finn, and he's only six. But none of us could outrun a bloodthirsty spirit._

_Undead, undead, go away, let me live another day. They were getting closer._

_Dim light filtered in through the woods in front of me-a clearing?_

_Please, please… a clearing could save me.I burst through the trees, chest heaving, a thin sheen of cold sweat on my skin. Yes! No-oh, no! I skidded to a halt, my arms waving, my feet backpedaling in the rocky dirt._

_It wasn't a clearing. In front of me was a cliff, a sheer face of rock that dropped to an unseeable floor hundreds of feet below. In back of me were woods filled with drooling zombies and psycho Spirits with eyes looking for their prey._

_Both options stank. The zombies were yelping excitedly- they'd found their prey: moi. I looked over the deadly drop. There was no choice, really. If you were me, you'd have done the same thing._

_I closed my eyes, held out my arms… and let myself fall over the edge of the cliff. The Spirits screamed angrily, the zombies moaned hysterically, and then all I could hear was the sound of air rushing past me._

_It was so dang peaceful, for a second. I smiled. Then, taking a deep breath, I unfurled my wings as hard and fast as I could._

_Thirteen feet across, bright white with some blue streaks , they caught the air, and I was suddenly yanked upward, hard, as if a parachute had just opened. Yow! Note to self: No sudden unfurling._

_Wincing, I pushed downward with all my strength, then pulled my wings up, then pushed downward again. Oh, my glob, I was flying-just like I'd always dreamed._

_The cliff floor, draped in shadow, receded beneath me. I laughed and surged upward, feeling the pull of my muscles, the air whistling through my secondary feathers, the breeze drying the sweat on my face._

_I soared up past the cliff edge, past the startled beings and the furious Spirits. One of them, blood splattered, fangs dripping with venom, raised his gun._

_A red dot of light appeared on my torn footie pajama. Not today, you jerk, I thought, veering sharply west so the sun would be in his hate-crazed eyes._

_I'm not going to die today._

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I jolted upright in bed, gasping, my hand over my heart. I couldn't help checking my footie pajama. No red laser dot. No bullet holes. I fell back on my bed, limp with relief.

Glob, I hated that dream. It was always the same: running away from the Lich, being chased by Spirits and zombies, me falling off a cliff, then suddenly whoosh, wings, flying, escaping. I always woke up feeling a second away from death.

Note to self: Give subconscious a pep talk re: better dreams.

It was chilly, but I forced myself out of my cozy bed. I threw on clean sweats-amazingly, Cake had put the laundry away.

Everyone else was still asleep: I could have a few minutes of peace and quiet, get a jump on the day. Maybe I could practice my knife throwing. I glanced out the hall windows on the way to the kitchen.

I loved this view: the morning sunlight breaking over the lush green grass, the clear sky, the deep shadows, the fact that I could see no sign of any other people.

We were high on a hill, a deserted valley, safe, just me and my family.

Our house was shaped and designed like a tree from the inside and outside. The bars of the house where on stilts out over a mini cliff, so if I looked out a window, I felt like I was floating. On a "cool" scale from one to ten, this house was an easy fifteen.

Here, my family and I could be ourselves. Here, we could live free. I mean literally free, as in, not in cells. Long story. More on that later.

And of course here's the best part: no grown-ups. When we first moved here, Simon Petrikov had taken care of us, like a dad. He'd saved us. None of us had parents, but Simon had come as close as possible.

Two years ago, he started to go crazy, and just...disappeared. I knew he was dead, we all did, but we didn't talk about it. Now we were on our own.

Yep, no one telling us what to do, what to eat, when to go to bed. Well, except me. I'm the oldest, so I try to keep things running as best as I can. It's a hard, thankless job, but someone has to do it.

We don't go to school, either, so thank Grod for BMO (our entertainment source), because otherwise we wouldn't know nothin'. But no schools, no rules, no people knocking on our door. It's simple: If no one knows about us, we stay alive.

I was rustling around for food in the kitchen when I heard sleepy shuffling behind me.

"Mornin, Fi."

"Morning, Jake," I said as the heavy-lidded eight-year-old slumped at the table. I smiled and ruffled his hair. He'd been Jake ever since he was a baby. What can I say? He just seemed like...a Jake.

Jake blinked up at me, his gorgeous blue eyes round and mischievous. "What's for breakfast?" he asked, sitting up. His fine golden-orangeish hair stuck up all over his head, reminding me of a an adventure we had a long time ago.

"Um, it's a... surprise," I said, since I had no idea.

"Yeah right. I'll pour juice," Jake offered. "Maybe I'll cook some Bacon Pancakes with Bubba." He was a sweet, and funny kid, and so was his little brother. He and six-year-old Finn were the only blood siblings among us, but we were all a family anyway.

Soon Bubba, tall and pinkish, walked into the kitchen. Eyes refreshed, he fell onto our beat-up couch with perfect aim. The only time he has trouble being blind is when one of us forgets and moves furniture or somethin.

"Hey, PG, rise and shine," I said. "Good morning to you too, Fionna," he smiled. "Good," I said. "Can ya cook breakfast?"

I was looking in the fridge with naïve hope-maybe the food fairies had come-when the back of my neck prickled. I straightened quickly and spun around. "Will you quit that?" I said.

Marshall always appeared silently like that, out of nowhere, like a dark shadow come to life. He regarded me calmly, dressed and alert, his dark, shaggy hair brushed back. He was four months younger than me but already four inches taller. "Quit what?" he asked calmly. "Breathing?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know what."

With a sigh, Bubba staggered upright. "I'll make eggs," he announced. I guess if I were more of a worried mother figure, it would bother me that a blind guy six months younger than I am could cook better than I could.

But I'm not. So it didn't. I surveyed the kitchen. Breakfast was well under way. "Marsh? You set the table. I'll go get Cake and Finn."

The two little buggers shared the last small bedroom. I pushed the door open to find eleven-year-old Cake asleep, tangled up in her covers. She was barely recognizable with her mouth shut, I thought wryly. When she was awake, we called it the Cake Show: all Cake, all the time.

"Hey, dude, up and at 'em," I said, gently shaking her shoulder. "Breakfast in ten."

Cake blinked, her brown eyes struggling to focus on me. "Wha' ?" she mumbled. "Another day," I said. "Get up and face it."

Groaning, Cake leveled herself into a crumpled but technically upright position. "All I wanted was some sleep!" she said.

Across the room, a thin curtain covering a big fort of pillows and sheets. Finn always liked big spaces. His bed, under the massive pillow fort, was like a nest-full of covers, animal skins, and most of his clothes.

I smiled and pulled most of the covers off. "Hey, you're already dressed," I said, leaning over to ruffle his hair.

"Sup, Fi!" Finn said, stuffing his blond locks back into his hat. "Can you do my buttons?" "Yep." I moved closer and started to button his buttons.

I'd never told the others, but I just loved, loved, loved Finn. Maybe because I'd been taking care of him practically since he was an adventurer in a diaper. Maybe because he was just so incredibly awesome and caring of others.

"Maybe because I'm like your best man," said Finn, turning around to look at me. "But don't worry, Fi. I won't tell anybody. Besides, I like you best too."

He threw his skinny arms around my neck gave me a quick hug. I hugged him back, hard. Oh, yeah-that's another special thing about Finn.

He can read minds.

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"I want to go pick blubbies today," Finn said firmly, scooping up a forkful of scrambled eggs. "They're ripe now." "Okay, Finn, I'll go with you," said Jake. Just then he let rip one of his unfortunate occurrences and giggled.

"Oh, jeez, dude!," I said disapprovingly. "That was certinaly uncalled for!" Bubba choked out, grabbing his nose, and fanning the air around him.

"Gas...mask!" Marshall said, falling out of his chair dramatically and stood up to put his plate in the sink. "Yeah, Finn," said Cake. "I think the fresh air would do us all good. I'll go too. I need some Vitamin C anyways." "We'll all go," I said.

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Outside, it was beautiful, clear and cloudless, with the first real heat of May. We carried buckets and baskets as Finn led us to a huge patch of wild blueberries.

He was getting a piggie back ride by me. "If you make cake, I can make blueberry Finn Cakes!," he said happily.

"Yeah, that'll be the day, when Fi makes a cake as good as mine," I heard PG say. "I'll make it, Finn."

I whirled. "Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed. "Okay, I'm not an awesome cook. But I can still kick your butt, and don't you forget it!"

PG frowned. Cake was trying not to laugh, even Marshall was grinning, and Jake looked… mischievous.

"Was that you?" I asked Jake.

He grinned and shrugged, trying not to look too pleased with himself. Jake had been about three when I realized he could mimic just about any sound or voice.

I'd lost count of how many times Bubba and Marshall had almost come to blows over stuff Jake had said in their voices. It was a dark gift, and he wielded it happily. Or...let's just say I made him.

It was just another weird ability-most of us had them. Whatever they were, they sure made life more interesting.

Next to me, Finn froze and screamed.

Startled, I stared down at him, and in the next second, men with rotting flesh, beady eyes, and a bloodthirsty look dropped out of the sky like spiders. Spirits! And it wasn't a dream.

Aw, fudge. There was no time to think. Simon had trained us not to think-just to act. I launched myself at an Spirit, spinning and planting a hard, roundhouse kick in his barrel chest.

His breath went oof, and the odor was just awful, like raw sewage left out in the hot sun. Better yet, it was just gross!

After that, it was like a movie, a bunch of superimposed images that hardly seemed real. I landed another blow, then an Spirit punched me so hard that my head snapped around and I felt a burst of blood in my mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marshall holding his own against an Spirit-until two more ganged up on him, and he went down under flailing venomous hands.

PG was still upright, but one eye was already swelling shut. And he wasn't really doing good.

Beyond shock, I scrambled to my feet, then saw Jake out cold, lying facedown on the ground.

I leaped toward him, only to be grabbed again. Two Spirits pinned my arms behind my back. Another leaned in, his reddish eyes glinting with excitement, his jaw fully dripping with poison.

He pulled back his hand and curled it into a fist. Then he brought it in hard, punching me in the stomach. An unbelievable pain exploded inside me, and I doubled over, dropping like a stone.

Dimly, I heard Finn screaming and Cake crying.

Get up! I told myself, trying to suck in air. Get up!

As weird mutant kids, we're much, much stronger than regular grown-up humans. But Spirits aren't regular grown-up humans, and they outnumbered us as well. We were about to be turned into a really big meal for them.

I struggled to my hands and knees, trying not to fall back down.

I staggered to my feet, blood lust in my eyes, ready to kill. Two Spirits held Cake's hands and feet. They swung her hard, and she went sailing, hitting her head against a tree. I heard a small pained cry, and then she lay crumpled among the pine needles.

With a hoarse, blood-muffled shout, I ran up and pierced my sword through the Spirits heart. He shrieked as he bled out, and dropped to the ground.

"Fionna!" Finn screamed, high-pitched and terrified, and I spun around. An Spirit had him by the arms, and I raced forward, jumping over Bubba, who now lay unconscious.

Two Spirits fell on me, knocking me down, one biting into my leg. I supressed a scream, and one of them cuffed my face hard, his claws seeping into my skin second by second.

Dizzily, I fell back, the two Spirits pinning me, and with terrifying horror I saw three other Spirits stuffing Finn, my little man, into a rough sack. He was kicking and screaming, trying not to cry, and one of them hit him.

Frantically struggling, I tried to scream but could make only a hoarse, choked cry. "Get off me, you stupid, freaking-" I choked, but I was slammed back again.

An Spirit leaned over me, smiling horribly.

"Fionna," he said, and my stomach clenched-did I know him? "Good to see you again," he went on conversationally. "You look like crap. You always acted so much better than everyone else, so this cheers me up."

"Who are you?" I gasped, feeling cold at the center of my being.

The Spirit grinned, his long, yellow teeth dripping with poison. "You don't recognize me? I guess I've grown some."

My eyes went wide with sudden, horrified recognition.

"Ash," I whispered, and he laughed like a mad person. Then he stood up. I saw his huge, black boot come at my head, felt my head jerk to one side, and everything went black.

My last thought was disbelief: Ash was Simon's son. The Lich made him into a Spirit. He was seven years old. What have he done!?

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"Fi?" Jake's voice was very young and very scared.

I heard a horrible, low moan, then realized it had come from me. I can't be weak right now. Not while _he_ had Finn.

Jake and Marshall were leaning over me, concerned expressions on their bruised, bloodied faces.

"I'm okay," I croaked, having no idea if I was or not. Memory came rushing back, and I tried to sit up. "Where's Finn?" My voice was strained.

Marshall's dark eyes met mine. "He's gone. They took 'im."

I thought I might faint again. I remembered being nine years old, looking out the cell doors, watching the Spirits in the semidarkness. The Lich had released fluffy people onto grounds and let newly made Spirits loose after them. Teaching them how to hunt.

The sounds of the fluffy people screeching in terror and pain still echoed in my mind.

That was who had Finn now.

Rage overwhelmed me-why couldn't they have taken me instead? Why take a tiny kid? Maybe I would have had a chance-maybe.

Shakily, I got to my feet. My head was spinning, and I had to lean against Marshall, hating my weakness. "We've got to get 'im!" I said urgently, trying to stay upright.

"We've got to get him before they-" Horror-filled images flashed through my mind-Finn being chased, being hurt, being killed. I gulped, shutting them down.

"Check in, guys-are you up for a chase?" I examined the four of them. They looked like they'd been stuffed into a blender set on "chop."

"Yes," Cake said in a tear-choked voice.

"I'm up," said Bubba, a split lip making his voice thick.

Jake nodded solemnly at me.

To my horror, hot tears momentarily blurred my vision. I wiped them away with the back of one hand and called on fury to keep me going.

Just then Bubba cocked his head slightly. It was a clue for me to start listening intently. Then I heard it too: a faint engine noise.

"There!" Bubba said, pointing.

The five of us ran stiffly and clumsily toward the sound. A hundred yards through the woods brought us to a sharp drop-off maybe fifty feet above an old, unused logging road.

Then I saw it: an old army truck, dull with dust and mud, bumping roughly over the unpaved road. My heart pounded. I knew, just knew, that my little man, my Finn, was inside. And he was on his way to a place where death came as a blessing.

It wasn't going to happen, not while I was breathing.

"Let's get him!" I cried, then backed up about ten feet. The others scurried out of my way as I ran to the edge and simply jumped out into space.

I started to fall toward the road.

Then I unfurled my wings, fast, catching the wind.

And I began to fly...

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**Chapter 1 done! And of course the words are mostly from the book. Fionna is just like Max...only, a litte girlier. If you have any questions at all about this story, just review about it!**


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